


That Military Mirror Shine

by scatterglory



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bootblacking, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-27
Updated: 2011-09-27
Packaged: 2017-10-24 02:15:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/257765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scatterglory/pseuds/scatterglory
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And the boy was doing it again, looking up at Arthur like that, completely ignorant of the things he was promising—things that, in the cold emptiness of his three decades of life, Arthur had never, ever been able to accept.</p><p>But <i>God,</i> how he <i>wanted</i> to accept.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That Military Mirror Shine

**Author's Note:**

> ***Disclaimer:*** This is a work of fan-love; I make no profit, and claim no ownership of Merlin.
> 
> This is entirely is E's fault, firstly for discovering "bootblacking," and secondly for telling me about it.
> 
> Also, this is because all my WIPs are long and depressing.

  
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**1\. Brush off any dirt or dust on the boot, from heel to toe, with a hard-bristled brush.**   
  
  
_   


_****_Arthur Pendragon swallowed convulsively as the boy's strong, sure fingers gripped his heel. Taking the well-worn brush in his other hand, the boy seemed to focus inward, as though bringing all his eye-catching, nervous energy of young adulthood to bear on the task at hand.

Maybe this wasn't such a good idea.

The boy's ears stood out almost ridiculously as he bent his dark-haired head over Arthur's shoe. Now that his piercing blue eyes were hidden, Arthur felt like he could almost breathe again—the sharp, laughing twinkle in the boy's eyes as he'd offered to shine Arthur's shoes like they'd never been shined before had made Arthur's throat close up, and he'd only been able to nod awkwardly as he sat down in the hard wooden chair.

For all the teasing in his tone, however, the boy was pure business now—drawing the brush over Arthur's shoe again and again, he began to slowly undo the damage done by Arthur's morning commute.

 

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**2\. Wrap a duster cloth around the index finger, making sure there are no wrinkles. Apply a medium layer of polish to the boot using the duster and finger. Rub it in until a faint shine starts to show.**   
  
  
_

_****_The boy's firm grip let up as he set the brush down, and Arthur tried not to shift in his seat. Against his better judgement, he watched as the boy withdrew a soft cloth from his bag, wrapping it expertly around his finger and inspecting it to make sure it was pulled tight and smooth. Satisfied, his dipped his cloth-covered finger into the pot, and began to spread the polish over Arthur's shoe. He worked steadily, unhurried—Arthur had to remind himself to keep breathing as the boy's finger moved in slow, deliberate circles over the leather encasing his foot.

 

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**3\. Once a faint shine comes through and the polish has been worked into the boot, lightly dip the cloth-covered index finger into the water. Rub the water into the boot in small circles, until a greater shine comes through and the swirls disappear.**   
  
  
_

When the boy changed over to water instead of polish, he glanced up from beneath his lowered eyelashes and offered Arthur a small, secret smile.

“All right?” he asked softly, the beginning of a shine emerging from beneath his careful fingers.

Arthur swallowed again, and nodded.

The boy ducked his head, and continued with his work.

 

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**4\. Leave the boot to dry for a few minutes.**   
  
  
_

_****_The boy stopped polishing, and carefully set Arthur's foot down on the footrest.

“It needs to set,” he explained.

“H-how long?” Arthur's voice most definitely did not crack.

“One minute. Maybe two.” And the boy was doing it again, looking up at Arthur like  _that_ , completely ignorant of the things he was promising—things that, in the cold emptiness of his three decades of life, Arthur had never, ever been able to accept.

But  _God_ , how he  _wanted_  to accept.

No one from work would see him here, in the middle of the day, on his way back from a business lunch.

His father would never have to know.

The seconds ticked by.

 

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**5\. Once dry, take the index finger again and apply a thin layer of polish to the boot. Start rubbing it in until an even better shine comes through, then apply water using the previous method.**   
  
  
_

_****_The boy looked down again, finally, and resumed polishing.

Arthur breathed a sigh of relief. The glances meant nothing.

It was for the best.

And the hunch in the boy's shoulders as he worked was due to concentration, not disappointment.

 

 _  
  
  
**6\. Leave the boot to dry again.**   
  
  
_

_****_“Three minutes, this time.”

The boy's fingers brushed over Arthur's sock as he set Arthur's foot down again; even through the cloth, the contact sent fire shooting up Arthur's leg, straight to his groin. He bit his lips against a groan, but couldn't keep from shifting in his seat as his pants grew tighter.

“These are beautiful shoes,” the boy said.

Arthur blinked at him. “T-thank you.”

The boy's finger traced the rim of the shoe, dipping down ever-so-slightly between the leather and Arthur's sock.

Arthur's breath hitched audibly.

“Soft,” the boy murmured, the pad of his finger rubbing the inside of the shoe, and the back of his knuckle pressing into Arthur's arch. “Italian?”

“Y-yes,” Arthur gasped.

The boy looked up at him, face serious, as his finger twisted in the shoe, reaching under Arthur's foot and stroking along the bottom.

“You should take better care of them,” he said.

 

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**7\. Take the duster cloth and buff the boot all over, until it shines as desired.**   
  
  
_

_****_By the time the boy was finished buffing his shoe, Arthur was nearly undone. Each measured pass of the soft cloth over the leather only added to the heat in his veins; he was sweating under his jacket, too warm for the autumn air, and his breathing was quiet, but uneven.

The boy set his shoe down again, and made a pleased noise. Arthur risked a glance down.

The leather gleamed like glass, flawless and pure from the boy's expert ministrations.

“How much do I owe you?” Arthur had to get away,  _now._

 __The boy's hand on his thigh was a live wire to his groin, stealing the strength from his legs as he tried to stand and sending him crashing back down into the chair.

“Not yet,” the boy said, his smile warm, amused, and dangerous, as his thumb brushed absently over Arthur's trousers.

“You still have another shoe.”

 

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**8\. Repeat until satisfied.**   
  
  
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**Author's Note:**

> Instructions and title adapted from this article: http://www.wikihow.com/Give-Your-Boots-That-Military-Mirror-Shine


End file.
